Angsty Teens and Where to Find Them
by Morgiii
Summary: In which MC (Named Melanie/Mel) finds her way from an abusive normal life; to being stuck in the apartment of a deadgirl and helping some Gay Boys plan a party. (Rated M for future chapters)


"Hey, what the _FUCK_ is wrong with you?" A deep voice called, breaking the silence of the hallway. A young girl sat in front of some lockers, her shoulder-length red hair cascading over her face like a fiery waterfall. The owner of the voice, a tall man who looked _very_ angry, was thumping his way over to her. He huffed as he walked, his facial expression a mix of anger and sadness; a cocktail that the girl understood all too well. She stood up, taking her backpack with her, and stopped in front of him.

She kept quiet, her head down as she stepped to the side and attempted to walk past him.

 _ **THUD.**_

Her hands met the ground first, then the rest of her. Before she could react, she was pushed onto her back, a heavy foot landing on her chest. "Okay then, I'll guess I'll ask again. What the _EVERLOVING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, FREAK?"_ His face was red, and anger contorted it into something terrifying- like a monster in a novel. She felt the stinging in her eyes as the tears began to form, and she swallowed down a sob.

"N-Nothing.. please... just let me leave." She coughed, the weight making speaking more difficult than it needed to be. "please, just let me go home." A tear rolled down her cheek, causing the man above her to chuckle. He put more of his weight on her chest, and her breath hitched in her throat. Green eyes begged him for release, to be free to leave this place.

Suddenly, the pressure was released. She coughed loudly, trying to regain her breath as the man walked away, laughing. She was left there, struggling to find her calm.

"Bye, Melanie. As if you even deserve that name"

Once the hallway was empty once more, she let the sobs shake her to the core. She felt the tears fall free from her eyes- She knew they all hated her, but none of them had gone this far before. The beginning of a bruise was forming on her chest in the shape of his foot. She sobbed again, but soon regained control of herself and stood; determined to get the _hell out of this place_ before she would let herself be hurt again.

As she walked away from the building, her heart felt like a bag of bricks. Pulling her phone out of the pockets in her jacket, she put her headphones on and played music- trying to forget what just happened, or at least calm herself down enough to make it through the walk home without breaking down again.

It was cold outside; much colder than it had been that morning. The evening air bit her face, causing her nose to turn a brighter shade of red as she hid beneath her scarf. She sighed, wishing she had worn something other than her favorite hoodie. The thin green material wasn't doing much to protect her from the cold; the only real thing she had was her black scarf that her dad gave her. Her throat clenched at the thought of him, and her eyes burned; the tears threatening to come back again. She swallowed hard, refusing to let the feelings take her over again. She was stronger than that.

She was only a few blocks away now, tempted to run for the last few minutes- her fingers beginning to tingle with the cold. She tucked her hands into her pockets as she ran, the small white clouds of her breath trailing behind her. She ran up to the door of her house, and rushed to grab her house keys from her bag- unlocking the door and stepping inside. After closing the door behind her she sighed, slipped her shoes off then went to go and relax on the couch. He took out her earbuds, then went to her phone- she turned it on and was looking for something to do when she stumbled upon it.

" _What's this?"_ She mused, opening the unfamiliar app. " _RFA? Weird..."_ She was then greeted with a scroll of green numbers, then a message appeared. After a short and not so sweet conversation; she found herself outside again, although this time in a proper jacket and hat. The person she was talking to had a username of Unknown, and had asked her to investigate a missing phone that he had found. She felt bad for the person, understanding the struggle of being unable to do something for someone, so she felt as though she had to do what she was asked to. She was walking to the address which had been sent to her, which conveniently was only a 15-minute walk from where she lived. As she walked, the neighborhood seemed to get cleaner, very obviously becoming more high class as she walked.

The building itself, as she walked up to it, looked large and fancy, unlike her own tiny bungalow. It was intimidating. She was someone who had grown up below the poverty line. After her parents passed away in that car accident 3 years ago, her living circumstances became nearly impossible. Her tuition fees took all of what her parents left behind, and now she found herself struggling to buy enough food for herself. But here she was, standing in front of an apartment building that was _far_ nicer than anywhere she could even dream to live.

She glanced to her phone, making sure she was at the right building before entering. She walked to the elevators, and pressed the call button. One arrived quickly, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the 14th floor and stood there waiting patiently. Her anxiety was growing as the elevator grew higher, and she felt the knots her stomach was tying itself into. " _Should I even be here?"_ she mumbled, grateful to be alone in the elevator. The sudden ding of the elevator brought her back into her surroundings as she stepped out, and walked to the room number she had been given.

Looking at the door, her stomach was doing backflips. Her throat was tight and dry, but she felt as though she had no other choice. She opened her phone, confused at what to do next. She opened the app, to ask Unknown how to progress.

 **Mel:** Okay! I'm here, what now? Do I just leave a note?

 **Unknown:** I don't know if you should leave a note outside...

 **Unknown:** It's a super expensive phone, wouldn't want someone who it doesn't belong to contacting me

 **Unknown:** Is there a passcode lock on the door?

 **Mel:** Yes, why? Do you want me to go into some strangers' house?

 **Unknown:** Yeah, there's this number in the notes. Wanna try it on the door lock?

 **Mel:** Um. No. Not particularly. Shouldn't I try to knock first?

 **Unknown:** Oh, yeah. Good idea! Lol

 **Unknown:** Sorry, I'm just stressed out about this.

 **Mel:** Okay, I'll knock.

She sighs, feeling awkward standing outside of the door for this long. She tucks her phone into her pocket, and lightly knocks on the door. She steps back, waiting for someone to angrily yell at her to go away. She waits for a few minutes, before trying again. And again. After about 10 minutes, she looks back to her phone, assuming that no-one is inside.

 **Mel:** Okay, knocking didn't work. You've ruined my conscience! I have no choice to break into someone's house, or risk them losing an expensive phone…

 **Unknown:** Sorry! I'm so sorry

 **Unknown:** I'll have to pay you back for this.

 **Unknown:** Here's the code

 **[CODE]**

 **Mel:** Yeah, you owe me one.

She slowly enters the 8-digit number, her hands shaking worse than they ever had before. The lock beeped, then made a grinding sound. She jumped back from the sudden noise, then took a deep breath and opened the door, only to be welcomed by the smell of old books and dust. She coughed, the dust making its way into her lungs, before stepping inside the doorway and closing the door behind her; she wasn't going to be caught breaking into the apartment. She locked the door, and took a few steps into the apartment before looking back at her phone.

The phone flashed with the numbers again, before the chatroom returned- but somehow looked more... normal? She was startled, visibly confused and distraught. " _Maybe I should leave... Run... What is happening here."_ She struggled to breath, watching the chat flow down the screen.

"Oh god" she mumbles, "What have I gotten myself into?"


End file.
